


Schubertiade

by aristokratischer



Category: Classicaloid
Genre: Gen, I know unrealistic kink stick to bdsm like everyone else, Schubert is treated well and respected, Senpai notices kouhai, but i want schubert to be loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristokratischer/pseuds/aristokratischer
Summary: Sousuke comes home with a flier to a Schubertiade, and wants Schubert to come. The problem arises when a certain Senpai comes with them.





	

It was Sousuke who came running in with the flier.  
"I didn't pin you one for classical, Sousuke!" His tablet said in disbelief. "You said it was boring! What's got you interested in--hey!" He threw Pad-kun to the side, on the sofa, who had more than a few choice words for him. But Sousuke wasn't listening. Instead, he just slammed the flier down in front of a startled Schubert. 

"Mr. Kagura? What's got you all riled up today?" He asked, looking over his glasses. 

"What can you tell me about this?" Something itched at the back of the composer's mind as he scanned over it, gingerly picking up the paper. But lord knows what it was. 

"Schubertiade." He read, raising an eyebrow. 

"Schubertiade!" Sousuke looked over to his tablet, who seemed a bit irritated. "You didn't have to run all the way here to ask him about it. A staple of Franz Schubert. While other composers played in the concert halls, Franz Schubert played his pieces in intimate settings among friends, at little gatherings called Schubertiades! Today they are still a concert tradition, usually meaning a performance of Lieder by Franz Schubert. And if you could refrain from throwing me, next time--" 

Schubert clicked his tongue, scanning over the flier again. He didn't know any of these people. "So--" 

"So you should go!" Sousuke said. "It might be a good experience. And you're the only one who would do this with me anyway. Mozart won't sit still, Beethoven just wants to conduct it himself--" 

"Because it would be better! Don't talk down about the great Herr Beethoven!" 

"--anyway. Chopin won't leave his room lately, and Liszt would just spend her time womanizing." And she would call him a tool, which didn't do anything for his self-esteem. "So I thought you should come instead. Besides, it might be good to hear your pieces. Or something." Of course, there was the hope that hearing something would jog a memory or two. And memories meant Musik. Of course, the last few times Schubert activated his Musik, he turned into a baby and a snail--but it was a risk he was willing to take. 

Schubert looked from Sousuke to the paper, and back again. "You think?" 

"Yes! Go to the concert! You'll like it." 

"Concert? Who is performing?" A booming voice, and Schubert jumped. "Beethoven-senpai--!" He squeaked, eyes shining at the very prospect of being in the same room as his hero. 

"O-oh, Beethoven-senpai, it would be nothing you're interested in, surely. They're just playing my pieces, and--" 

"No. I am coming." Schubert's eyes widened. Sousuke sighed, so much for a pleasant evening. Well, at the very least, there was two chances to see Musik. 

"Are you certain, Beethoven? I mean, I know you wouldn't like my--" 

"You don't know, Schubert." The younger was taken aback. "I am going whether you want me to or not." Schubert's eyes glimmered. That was just like him to say such a thing. 

"O-okay! I should hope it appeals to you, great Beethoven!" 

"Stop groveling." 

\--

Schubert found himself pacing outside the concert hall. Two performances of his lieder, with intermission between. They really did pick a lot of pieces, he mused as he ran a finger down the program. Seligkeit Die Forelle, Fischerweise, Ganymed (of course they'd sing that one, surely just to embarrass him!), Gretchen am Spinnrade, An die Musik...and that was just some of the first half! 

"Jeez, Schuu, you're acting like you're performing!" Sousuke rubbed the back of his neck. The composer looked up, to him, and then over to Beethoven. Great, dear, darling Beethoven. He was getting some coffee before the performance. Black. Just like him to do that. "Hello? Schuu--" Schubert looked to Sousuke, quickly, waving his hand to shush him. "I am performing. It's my work. And if Beethoven doesn't like it--oh, what will I do? What if he thinks it's terrible? What if he says it's the worst he's ever heard? I'll have to leave town--or the country!" Sousuke frowned deeply, shaking his head. "You won't have to leave the country. So what if he doesn't like it?" 

Schubert felt the world stop for a moment. "So _what_? What kind of composer would I be if The Great Beethoven didn't at the very least tolerate my work? You idiot--don't you see? He knows how to weave passion and emotion and beauty in his music, and if he doesn't like it, it surely means I cannot--I'd be a failure!" His eyes were fixated on his idol. 

Moments later, it was time to file into the concert hall, and poor Schubert was feeling like his heart would burst from his chest if it beat any harder. He barely registered sitting down--next to Beethoven!--and the start of the first piece. E major, in 3/8. That might have been inspired a bit by Beethoven--he did have a fondness for 3/8 time. And he didn't even find himself watching the woman singing. 

He was locked entirely on his idol's expression, trying to be as subtle as he could about it. Though she was lovely, he had to gauge what Beethoven thought of his pieces. His art. Him. But, that was the issue. His expression was almost impossible to read. How was he supposed to tell anything? And the first half ended, piano spinning out in D minor. 

_Meine Ruh ist hin_ , indeed--

Beethoven was oddly silent as the people left, chattering amongst themselves. Sousuke too, had left to stretch his legs. And suddenly, he stood, causing Schubert to jump back. 

"Your nickname is well deserved." He said. Beethoven's face was still unreadable. What nickname? Imitator? God forbid, less talented Mozart? Or-- 

"The prince of Lieder. Master of melodies." 

Those were new. 

"Excuse me?" He asked, voice almost a squeak. 

"You heard me, Franz." Franz. Beethoven addressed him by name. "Such passions in your music! You are a talent! Truly within you is a divine spark, Franz." Franz, again. "Others may have owned my mind. But you, Franz. You own my soul." 

Eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly. He wasn't sure what to say. "Thank you, Beethoven-senpai--!" He squeaked, feeling himself tearing up. This was much better than he expected.

"Now. Let's get another coffee, and I should like to hear the next part." Franz nodded enthusiastically. 

"I'd love to--!"

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. There is a tale that Beethoven, on his deathbed, looked over a lot of Schubert's music. He was quoted as saying a few things about Schubert--including "Truly in Schubert there is a divine spark", and "You, Anselm, have my mind, but Franz has my soul." 
> 
> Also the reason Schubert is embarrassed about Ganymed? It's pretty blatantly about getting it on.


End file.
